


Aloha For Real

by masterinkblaster



Category: Lilo & Stitch (2002)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cock Tease, Hand Jobs, Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Display of Affection, Public Hand Jobs, Romance, Size Difference, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 00:46:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7131278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterinkblaster/pseuds/masterinkblaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Valentine’s Day! The birds are singing, love is in the air, and Pleakley is planning a very special banquet for a certain someone. Will his advances bear fruit or will he end up with a broken heart?</p>
<p>A commissioned story written by Twotime with some help from yours truly!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aloha For Real

Earth was home to some of the most fascinating life in the universe, and Pleakley was determined to document it. Today was Valentine’s Day, and all of Kaua’i was caught up in the delicate and potentially explosive rituals of human courtship. On waking up he’d just known there was something in the air--well, other than Lilo’s burnt cookies and Nani’s shouting.

 

Today, television ads showed couples kissing while the pink pages of magazines featured men and women giving sly winks to the reader. Sitting in the living room with a cold drink and hit notepad to study this strange behavior, he’d seen nothing but all day. It was enough to make a sensible alien blush, but no one was giving him straight answers about the important details.

 

Nani had a date, and she said so while blushing in a way that suggested she wasn’t ready to talk about it quite yet. Lilo’s class was exchanging quaint little paper creations known as Valentine’s Cards with baggies of candy taped on the back, which Nani insisted she bring enough of for everyone. Stitch ate most of them. 

 

But why hearts? Why candy? Everyone he asked gave him puzzled looks, but he wasn’t going to be deterred that easily, no sir.

 

_Humans are such private creatures when it comes to love,_ Pleakley thought, turning off the television. Picking up a magazine, he thumbed through the pages searching for clues. _Well, not that I’m any better..._

 

Even Pleakley had a special someone that nobody else on Kaua’i knew about. As he flipped through the ads, they took on the feel of scenes from his sultriest daydreams. It wasn’t Jane Doe sitting in dusky candlelight and staring into the eyes of the man of her dreams, but Pleakley.

 

And the man wasn’t John Doe, with the sculpted Hawaiian body and slicked-back hair, it was...

 

“Oh, Jumba,” Pleakley sighed, “If only it were that easy.” Valentine’s Day might have been a mystery, but he knew it was a day for lovers. He had it from a good inside source that Mr. Robinson down at the cafe was going to propose today, and humans didn’t propose a life mate agreement on just any old day.

 

How crazy did he have to be to think he had any more of a shot today than any other day?

 

Of all the restaurants he’d seen during their days posing as a human couple, the one in this ad was one of the loveliest. In the background the ocean reflected warm orange rays of sun, and the water could be seen lapping at the beach beneath the polished wood balcony out back. The perfect place to both observe human courtship rituals and spend some time with Jumba away from the family. Some days it seemed like that man never left his lab, which only gave Pleakley an excuse to continue saying nothing.

 

White Sands Cafe was emblazoned in white and gold letters at the top of the ad, and below that was a number. The bottom of the page chimed in, “Romance waits for no one! Make your reservation now.”

 

“You know what? You’re right, Chic Hawaiian. Maybe I will,” Pleakley said, reaching for the phone and dialing. I’ll worry about how to get Jumba to come when he gets home. I’m sure I’ll think of some way to lure him out of that lab. What’s he do in there on a day like this, anyw--

 

“Hello?” A woman answered.

 

“Oh! Hello.” Snapped out of his thoughts, Pleakley waved the magazine through the air as he spoke. “Say, I was just reading about your _fabulous_ Valentine’s Day special, and I’d like to book a table for two.”

 

“Table for two, gotcha. It’s a bit late for reservations, but we’ve got a table available at 8:00 by the balcony. Inside the restaurant. Can I get a name?”

 

“That’s fine. The reservation is for Mr. And Mrs. Pelekai,” he answered automatically.

 

“Okay, the buffet opens at 7:00. I’m sure you and your husband will love it, ma’am.”

 

“My... husband?” Pleakley hesitated, then laughed. “Yes, of course! He does love the buffet.” The butterflies in his stomach when someone referred to them that way would never get old. Somehow, it just felt right--even when it was pretend.

 

“It’s one of our most popular features. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

 

“No,” Pleakley said. He sat back down and looked at the ad again. A man and a woman wearing luaus waved and shouted ‘Aloha!’ to the reader, a phrase he and Jumba often exchanged as a tourist couple to add realism to the disguise. “... That’s everything.”

 

“We’ll see you then. Happy Valentine’s Day to you.”

 

“And to you!”

 

The phone clicked on the receiver, and what was done was done. Pleakley’s heart raced.

 

Silly, he told himself, picking up his notepad and looking back over his notes. You’re being silly. Now, what to say... and what am I going to wear?

 

Pleakley had five hours to convince Jumba that dinner with him on Valentine’s Day was more important than his research without letting on that it was more than just a dinner. Their life had become a delicate dance the past few months as his feelings grew, once he’d recognized them for what they were. Tonight, he was going to change that. Tonight, he might change that. Tonight, he...

 

Alone with his thoughts, it was all he could think of. Tossing the notepad back onto the table full of scribbled out lines and scrawled affectations, Pleakley threw himself facefirst into the pillows. “Ugh! This can’t go on.”

 

“What can’t go on?” The front door closed and heavy footsteps made their way to the family room. Jumba poked his head in, squinting left and right. “What has little girl and experiment done now? Did they, uh, peek in my laboratory? Very sensitive materials in there right now.”

 

“Oh, no,” Pleakley sat up. “They’re still out getting more supplies for their cute little project.”

 

“Ah, good.” Jumba peered up the stairs. “And big sister?”

 

“Out for the night.” Pleakley followed him into the kitchen, shuffled his feet, and cleared his throat. “Say, seeing as how there’s nobody here to cook for tonight, why don’t we go out? We can’t live on pizza forever.”

 

Jumba opened the refrigerator and leaned inside. Pushing aside a container of potato salad, he grunted. “Eh, will be okay. Used to Earth food now.” He gave Pleakley a shy sort of smile. “Is home. I’ll order the usual later.”

 

Earth _was_ home, but that wasn’t the point. Pleakley beamed while Jumba straightened up and left the kitchen for the stairs, but he wasn’t giving up.

 

Standing at the foot of the stairs, he had an idea. “B-but, wait! This is an invaluable opportunity.”

 

“What for? We go to restaurant all the time. Is good fun, but...” Jumba was peering off dreamily towards his lab.

 

Clearing his throat, Pleakley tried to regain his composure. “To study the humans’ behavior, of course. Haven’t you noticed? _Love_ is in the air.”

 

What scientist could resist?

 

Jumba rubbed his chin, hesitating at the top of the stairs. “Hmm, would be good to know. Emotions very powerful things. Courtship rituals important in order to fully understand.”

 

“Exactly,” Pleakley echoed. _Come on... come on..._

 

“Okay, “Jumba relented. “Just give me fifteen minutes. It will be good to spend time with someone not a computer.”

 

_Yes!_ Pleakley held back a cheer as Jumba disappeared down the hall. He leaned against the wall and placed a hand to his chest. _Be still, my heart, we still have work to do tonight._

 

###

 

Pleakley arrived at White Sands Cafe early enough to catch the crowd, but no Jumba. Tourists and locals passed him by on the sidewalk while he nervously fiddled with his purse, their arms around their lovers as they headed to the luau down on the beach. Inside, he could hear excited voices punctuated by laughter, and a lone ukulele.

 

A waitress stepping out for his break looked at him with concern, and Pleakley smiled. “Just waiting for my husband.”

 

There was that word again. When he saw Jumba’s unmistakable figure approaching through the crowd, his breath caught in his throat. They stood looking at each other for a moment, and Pleakley knew--this was the night. _Something_ was going to be done. It was that tremor in your heart that cried out, _no more!_

 

“Aloha,” he said as they always did, taking Jumba’s arm.

 

“Aloha.” Jumba answered. He led him inside where they were stopped by a waiter. “We’re Pelekai human couple. Made reservation earlier... my wife was very eager to go out tonight, it seems.”

 

Pleakley just smiled while they walked through the restaurant to the balcony. Jumba had no idea. The atmosphere was warm and infectious, the rhythm of the ukulele picking up as a second player joined in.

 

Once they were seated, their waiter flashed them a toothy smile. “Can I get you two anything to start with?”

 

“Eh, just water for now,” Jumba replied. Picking up the menu, he thumbed to the back. “Need to see what boiled aquatic life is served.”

 

“Wine for me, thanks,” Pleakley said. Their waiter slipped away, and Pleakley picked up his own menu but kept his eyes on Jumba. “You should try it sometime. Apparently, it’s a big thing on Valentine’s Day.”

 

“Is that the stuff with the bitter taste?” Jumba squinted at the glass another waiter set in front of Pleakley. The first time he’d ever had wine, he’d had far too much and lost his rational edge--but he always said it was the taste. “I think Earth liquor agrees more with you.”

 

“Oh, you get used to it. They say it’s an acquired taste for the finest of Earth tongues.” The wine poured, Pleakley took a sip and eyed a couple seated nearby. Their hands clasped in the middle of the table, their wine glasses forgotten. He watched as the woman threaded her delicate fingers through her lover’s and beamed, causing the man to blush.

 

_What sweethearts,_ Pleakley thought. _They must be a new couple._ At his own table, Jumba’s hands were wrapped around his glass of water, the fingers dwarfing the glass as they would dwarf Pleakley’s fingers.

 

Sighing, Pleakley just traced a finger along the rim of his glass. _They have their whole lives together ahead of them. We’ve been going out to dinner for years, but all this time we’ve just been--_

 

“Something wrong?” Jumba was scrutinizing Pleakley’s face. “Sick already? They haven’t even messed up our orders yet.”

 

_Pretending. But what I feel isn’t pretend._

 

Pleakley chuckled, “Oh, no, everything’s fine.”

 

Jumba didn’t look convinced.

 

“How could I be sad when I’m with you?” Pleakley asked. Reaching out, he laid a hand over one of Jumba’s, using the other to twirl the blonde curls of his wig on one finger. “We have such a good time together.”

 

Even though their status as a couple was officially only a disguise, that much was true. These private moments together had brought him a peace he’d never imagined back on Plorgonar when his studies were all that mattered.

 

Jumba didn’t pull away, but after a brief silence he pulled his eyes away and wouldn’t look back. “Heh. Is true. Best company on Kaua’i for a mad scientist.”

 

“Is that so?” Out of the corner of his eye, Pleakley saw the couple at the next table leaning towards each other. The woman’s hand was trailing along his arm in a tender caress. Would the same gesture make Jumba grin so widely? He tried it and smiled when Jumba’s eyes darted back to him, wide with surprise.

 

_How strange._ Pleakley looked into Jumba’s eyes, searching. _Something seems different…_

 

Jumba leaned in.

 

Pleakley’s heart began to pound in his chest.

 

“I agree,” Jumba said. Ignoring Pleakley’s look of disappointment, he continued. “Is good to have people you can count on. Jumba has been wanting to build a new life here, now that… now that old life not so appealing anymore. So many I thought friends gone now that life of crime is no more.”

 

“I know what you mean,” Pleakley said. He took a deep breath to regain his composure for the second time that night. “Kaua’i is a whole new world, even though all we left behind was… well… everything we knew. We’re still us. Just better versions of us, you know?”

 

Jumba nodded, but his expression told a different story.

 

The urge to comfort those big, sad eyes was overwhelming, so Pleakley put a hand to his cheek. “Hey,” he said. “We’ve always got each other.”

 

There was nothing harsh about it, but Jumba pulled away as if he’d been struck. “I, uh…”

 

“I’m sorry,” Pleakley started. The little flutter in his chest died and became a dark cavern. “That was too much.”

 

He wished the room would quiet down and leave him alone with his thoughts. The woman’s husband had pulled out a ring, and with an enthusiastic shout she’d thrown her arms around his neck. Even the servers were clapping. It was a happy occasion, but selfishly all he could think about was how tonight had become so tangled.

 

“It’s not that,” Jumba said. He was watching the couple with a frown. “I’m just not sure if… not sure if you mean it when you say and do these things. No, wait--” As Pleakley stood to leave, Jumba reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper, smeared with ink. “This is all wrong. Just hear me out first. Have been working on confession for weeks now.”

 

“Confession?” Sitting back down, Pleakley took a long drink from his wine glass, deftly refilled by a passing waiter.

 

Uncrumpling it as best he could, Jumba cleared his throat. “Pleakley, there are no easy words. I wrote long letters. But those weren’t the right words. So, I risk everything this way.” Glancing up to confirm Pleakley was still seated, he continued. “Hawaii and _Ohana_ taught me love is simple thing, and is about who is there for you when it counts. Let’s stop pretending to be traveling Earth couple as disguise, and just be Earth couple. I hope… I hope you feel the same way.”

 

When Jumba looked up, his eyes were fearful until he saw that Pleakley’s was watering.

 

“Oh, Jumba,” Pleakley said. That spark in his chest was back, and now it was so bright he felt he couldn’t contain his happiness. “I-I need a moment.”

 

“N-no, all the time you need.” Flabbergasted, Jumba hastily stuffed the note back into his pocket. If Jumba’s species could turn a bright shade of pink during times of embarrassment like the humans, Pleakley was sure he would have been positively rosy. “Just good to get it out, you know?”

 

“I know.” Dabbing at his eye with his napkin, Pleakley smiled across the table. “I feel the same way.”

 

“Really?” Jumba’s hands, which had been nervously twisting around his own fingers while he waited for an answer, reached out and held Pleakley’s. He might not have been able to blush, but his touch was warm and tender.

 

“Really,” Pleakley replied. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about it all day! Procrastinator that I am, I’ve been wanting to say it for a long time.”

 

Jumba laughed and sat back in his chair. The tension hanging between them dissipated. “That’s what this special dinner is for, eh?” When Pleakley tried to protest, he waved it off. “Is okay. ‘Study humans’, my foot. They do this all the time. Just not so…”

 

“Dramatic? Romantic?”

 

“Yeah, one of those two.”

 

“So,” Pleakley hesitated, not quite believing what happened. He hurriedly picked up his menu as a waiter approached. “You want to have dinner as a couple, then? For real?”

 

“For real. I don’t know if this dainty place you chose can handle my appetite, though. Ha-ha!”

 

Dinner was uneventful. Sweet, but uneventful--at least until dessert. With dinner finished, they were left with a comfortable silence that begged to be filled with years of unspoken feelings.

 

By the time the main course was over and Pleakley was finishing his second glass of wine, Jumba had changed his mind and started on his first. They’d chosen a dark-bodied red wine for the occasion, and Jumba sipped at it cautiously.

 

“Still a strange taste,” he remarked, making a face, “but something I could get used to. Like coffee.” Around the cafe, many of the candles were burning low as the evening wore on. Someone had cleverly dimmed the lights, too. Smiling sheepishly, Jumba asked, “Thinking of dessert?”

 

Leaning in, Pleakley purred, “Oh, I had something else in mind.” He’d been watching Jumba and seeing him in a new light that made his heart race and his pulse thrum. Fantasies weren’t new to him--he had enough to put any erotica tucked away in the bookstore to shame--but before tonight he’d never looked at Jumba’s lips or his broad chest and considered touching them in a more-than-friendly way to be possible.

 

“Oh? What’s that?” Jumba asked.

 

Feeling bold, Pleakley rested a hand on Jumba’s thigh beneath the table. Just out of sight of the restaurant staff and the other couples, he crept his fingers along until they were inches from Jumba’s crotch and he could feel the heat pooling there.

 

Jumba didn’t say anything, but Pleakley heard him suck in a sharp breath. “... Dessert someplace else?”

 

Whether he was naive or just shy, Pleakley couldn’t tell. In fact, he had no idea how Jumba would act in a more intimate setting, but he was determined to find out. “I’ll give you three guesses,” he said, fingers plucking at the hem of his shorts.

 

Jumba quivered and shifted in his seat. “What are you up to, Pleakley? You are such a little tease, sometimes. You are making it very inappropriate for Jumba to be sitting here in shorts.”

 

“Me?” Pleakley scoffed, though he had to fight to keep his face straight. “I’m astonished you’d suggest such a thing. Offended, even! Oh, there goes my napkin--” Hastily dropped to the floor, it fluttered beneath the table at Jumba’s feet. Pleakley’s hands didn’t reach for it, though, and moments later Jumba let out a repressed moan before Pleakley resurfaced with a smile.

 

“Pleakley...” Jumba’s hand was creeping along the table towards him.

 

Having seen the bulge in his shorts, Pleakley could only imagine what he was thinking of doing with that hand when he was staring him down with that dark, sultry gaze. Where it was going to touch, where it was going to tease, and where it was going to squeeze.

 

“Excuse me, miss, I think you dropped your napkin.” A passing waiter bent down to retrieve it from beneath the table and Jumba quickly withdrew his hand.

 

Crumpling the napkin in his hand as soon as the waiter moved on, Pleakley turned back to Jumba. “Best we move someplace else, hmm?” Fluttering his eyelashes, he hoped Jumba would take the hint. Chocolate cake had nothing on what he was thinking of.

 

“Y-yes. Good idea. Check, please!”

 

###

 

The house was empty tonight. Pleakley had found that fact depressing several hours earlier, when staying home alone seemed a real possibility, but as they worked their way up the stairs with their hands roaming each other’s bodies it was a blessing. He just couldn’t stop _giggling_ when Jumba kissed his neck and felt his breath tickling at his sensitive skin.

 

At the top of the stairs, they parted while Jumba fiddled with the lock to his room. Pleakley sucked in a breath, glancing out the window. “Do you know what time they’ll be back?” He didn’t want to have to think about anything except Jumba for the next few hours, but with Stitch you just never knew.

 

Jumba grinned over his shoulder. “With the mischief little girl and 626 are finding? Not until very late. Have many things I’ve been thinking to, uh, share with you.” Chuckling to himself, he pushed the door open with a click.

 

“Well, that’s a delicate way of putting it,” Pleakley giggled, following him inside. He fell back into his lover-to-be’s strong arms and sighed. The feeling of hands several times the size of his own on his hips and the warm breath in his ear was tantalizing, drawing him ever closer like a moth to a flame. There was a delicacy to Jumba’s touch from years spent handling sensitive equipment in the laboratory.

 

_Sensitive equipment,_ Pleakley giggled, feeling giddy from the wine.

 

Jumba gently bit down on his neck and, reaching Pleakley’s ass, his hands possessively squeezed the pert cheeks. “What’s so funny?”

 

“Oh, nothing,” Pleakley replied. His hands wandered down Jumba’s broad chest, popping open the buttons of his flowered Hawaiian shirt as they went. Together they backed towards the bed, and as soon as Jumba was seated on the mattress Pleakley took a seat on his lap, making sure his ass was planted firmly on top of Jumba’s crotch. Beneath him he could feel the erection from earlier straining against the fabric, the slow throb of it hot against his thigh while his hands worked their way down to the front of Jumba’s shorts.

 

“Pleakley--”

 

“Shh.” Pleakley touched a finger to Jumba’s lips. “Just let me.”

 

Jumba let him tug the zipper down, leaning back on the bed and watching with a tender expression. It was one Pleakley was beginning to realize he often wore when they were together, though he’d never dared to think it was really for him. “You hear so much on those daytime shows, it is ridiculous. Lucky it’s cute when it’s you…” He trailed off when Pleakley’s hand slipped inside his shorts and wrapped around his cock.

 

“That’s not the only thing I learned,” Pleakley teased back. Drawing Jumba out of his shorts, he saw that the reality was even more erotic than the fantasy. A shade of deep, rosy pink much lighter than the rest of Jumba’s skin, his cock took both of Pleakley’s hands to heft out of his shorts. Standing tall at ten inches, ridged, and thick, he could see it fading back into violet near the base of the shaft. So something on this scientist could blush, after all.

 

Lifting him to his lips, Pleakley’s tongues darted out and licked away glistening drops of violet-tinged pre. The salty taste of it teased at his taste buds while he nimbly worked around the head, letting the flavor of the different but highly alluring species coat them. He glanced up and saw Jumba biting his lip.

 

Exactly the reaction he wanted.

 

Pleakley kept his eye turned upwards to watch the expressions play across Jumba’s face while he drew it into his mouth and suckled. How many times had he fantasized about this in the shower? More than he wanted to admit.

 

Reaching up, he wrapped his fingers around Jumba's length and gave it a gentle squeeze, drawing out a moan. Fully erect, Jumba was thick enough that anyone else's fingers wouldn't have been able to wrap around it, but Pleakley was able to hold him against his palm and marvel at how soft he was even when he was hard. All of Jumba's body seemed to have that feeling of muscle and strength beneath the outer plumpness. When his thumb skimmed across the ridges on the underside, those were thick, too, and the thought of what they might feel like inside him was making him blush.

 

Focusing on the present, he lowered his head, widening his mouth around Jumba’s girth until he could take the full length of his cock to the back of his throat. As thick as Jumba was, Pleakley’s body was stretchier--and thank goodness for that.

 

A curl from his blonde wig fell in his face as he worked, and he was about to brush it away when he felt Jumba’s hand against the side of his face. It tucked the curl carefully back against the rest and then laid itself against the back of Pleakley’s head while he bobbed and slurped, the faint pressure of it pushing him down further each time until his face was in Jumba’s lap.

 

Closing his eye, he focused on the new but somehow familiar sensations. A heavy sigh. The slow but quickening pulse. A creak of the bedsprings. It was as if he’d always known these things.

 

When Jumba’s hips began to bounce in time with Pleakley’s movements, he moved along with him as naturally as if they’d been lovers all along. Not even the ridges tickling his tongues seemed out of place.

 

The time between Jumba's breathy moans of excitement and the squeaking of old springs grew less and less, and when his palm squeezed the back of Pleakley's head he got the hint. Their eyes met and an unspoken agreement, aided by Pleakley's sly smirk around the girth of Jumba, passed between them.

 

"Oof, better you open wide," Jumba groaned. His hips jerked and Pleakley only had that brief warning before hot seed spurted across his tongue.

 

With his lips wrapped around Jumba's cock and his face buried against his crotch, most of it was already halfway down Pleakley's throat when he began to gulp. He could feel the throb of a pulse twitching against his tongues as rope after rope of cum shot free, until finally Jumba sank back into the mattress with a satisfied sigh. Pulling up, Pleakley felt a dribble of the violet, goopy substance dripping down the side of his mouth and onto his chin.

 

Their eyes met and he sheepishly wiped it away with a small smile. Climbing onto the bed, he leaned his head against Jumba’s bare chest and listened to his breathing slow back down to normal.

 

Pleakley, however, was riled up beyond anything he’d expected before dinner. The cool summer breeze coming from the window did nothing to slake his desire, and feeling the heat of his new lover’s body against him only made it worse.  He doubted even a cold shower could pull his hands from Jumba’s chest, his arms--everything he could touch while still giving the man a minute to recover.

 

_Now, now, Pleakley,_ he scolded himself, _You’ve got all night with this hunk. Y--_

 

He squeaked when Jumba’s hand slipped up his dress again, thick fingers trailing along his thigh.

 

“I’ve got, uh,” Jumba searched for the words, “something for trying?”

 

Pleakley recognized the mad glint in his eye and the quirk of his lips just shy of a grin that meant someone was in for a surprise. What that surprise was when he was sitting in Jumba’s lap and not poring over the details of escaped experiments was another question, and one he definitely wanted to find the answer to. “Oh?” He giggled while Jumba trailed kisses along his slender neck, pausing at a ticklish spot. “What’s that?”

 

Jumba’s answer was a push back onto his bed and a second hand sneaking past the hem of Pleakley’s dress. Layers of rich, red fabric fell back to expose his thighs and a slender, tapered erection poking out of a narrow slit. The feeling of those strong hands skimming along his bare skin made Pleakley quiver even before they pulled his legs apart to give Jumba room to crouch between them.

 

Leaning in, he whispered, “You’ll see. Too much time to think of tantalizing things and tantalizing people… too little time to do. Always the problem of mad scientist.”

 

Pleakley could have swooned. This Valentine’s Day wasn’t turning out to be as traditional as he’d thought, but it was a dream come true.

 

He thought Jumba’s hands were going to keep traveling upwards, but instead they dipped down to the pink pucker between his legs. A thumb as thick as any sex toy Pleakley had seen prodded him and he gasped. “Ooh! I see what you mean. I’m no prude, you know. I might look innocent and sweet, but I have a mind just as devious as yours. I’ve had sex before.” Shifting his hips, he tried to grind himself against Jumba’s hand to prove his point.

 

But darn, he was going to need lube--and lots of it--if he wanted to take anything bigger.

 

Gently rotating his thumb against him, Jumba glanced up and met his eye. “Well... not quite.” His kisses were trailing lower, down Pleakley’s neck and past his collarbone, over his stomach and beyond the hem of his skirt where they joined Jumba’s hands.

 

Pleakley had seconds to wonder where this was going before he felt Jumba’s tongue replace his thumb. A hot, wet, and increasingly insistent pressure that turned his mind to mush. It traced along the rim before gently thrusting against the center, too thick to dip inside easily but strong enough to tease it open. His hands gripped the bedsheets and he let out a shrill moan, which for Jumba was encouragement enough.

 

From between his legs, Pleakley heard him chuckle. “See? Is good feeling. Bet you didn’t see that on your spicy late night channels.” Then his tongue went back to skimming, thick trails of saliva coating Pleakley’s hole in a way far more intimate than their initial kisses.

 

“W-what?” Pleakley blushed. “How do you know about those? Those are private watching histories, mister!” His complaint ended in a moan when Jumba’s tongue gave a harder thrust, this time spreading Pleakley wide enough for the broad tip to slip inside.

 

Jumba didn’t relent, each well-placed jab slipping another section of his tongue inside with a soft squelching sound.

 

It was lewd and somehow perfectly devious, considering who he had crouched between his thighs. Should he have expected anything less? _Of course_ Jumba had enough fantasies to make a nun cry. He should just be glad they’d started off slow and tender. Burying his face against the pillows, Pleakley tried to steady his breathing and his pounding pulse.

  
Eager to make that task more difficult, Jumba moved one hand from Pleakley’s thigh and instead wrapped it around his slender cock. With his hand pumping in time, he clearly intended to make short work of Pleakley’s self-control.

 

The tongue was at his entrance again, taunting him with the plump, succulent feel. Jumba’s tongue would trace circles around him, seeking out all the nooks and crannies, and then dive in to wrest out a moan, a whimper, or some other plaintive sound. Pleakley’s hips were moving against it whenever it pushed its way inside, rocking up and down as if they were already making love.

 

In his mind, Pleakley could still see his self-satisfied smirk when Jumba chuckled, the sound muffled against his ass. “Having a good time with Jumba’s special something, are we?”

 

Pleakley mumbled, but couldn’t find the words. He couldn’t find anything sensible to say at all. His hips were starting to jerk and twist more against any contact they could find than against Jumba’s tongue or his hand, his orgasm roaring closer by the second. “Well, I suppose it’s not--oh, damn it, more!” It came out as a soft cry, but his cock was throbbing in his lover’s grip and he _needed_ it.

 

He was about to cry out again when Jumba’s tongue plunged into him, and then he only groaned as he finally tipped over the edge. Pleakley’s body convulsed, and he felt the thick shape of a tongue still twisting inside of him and pressing against the walls. Teased open, touched, and tantalized, Jumba was all he could feel. Sleek spurts of blue cum splattered across Pleakley’s chest and the ruffled sheets beneath him, a few stray droplets making it to Jumba’s hand or forearm.

 

By the time Pleakley refocused, Jumba had pulled back. The flat tip of his tongue lovingly circled around once more, and then he sat up. He didn’t have to say, _I told you so_. It was in his eyes and, more obviously, in the fact that he was hard again.

 

Jumba was patient, though. He held Pleakley’s slender body to his chest while his lover basked in the afterglow, a small smile on his face.

 

Relaxing against Jumba, Pleakley let out a satisfied sigh. His body was still throbbing with the afterglow, slow and mellow as the heartbeat against his ear. “You sure know a lot I didn’t give you credit for. If anything,” he playfully jabbed Jumba’s side,” I should ask what you get up to late at night on this planet."

 

“I think you’re going to be finding out!” Jumba whispered against Pleakley’s ear, hands tightening around him.

 

Pleakley chuckled. “Lewd.” Then Jumba’s hand was beneath his chin, pulling him into another kiss. Their tongues tangled, each press together feeling more natural than the last despite the difference in biology. One tongue or two, broad or narrow, what did it matter? These were lovers’ touches.

 

One moment Pleakley was resting against Jumba’s chest, and the next he was being pressed into the mattress beneath him. Jumba was grinding his hips insistently against his, and Pleakley could feel another burgeoning erection sliding across his stomach with every movement. Then it was pressing against his own, dwarfed by the size of it, and without thinking Pleakley wrapped a hand around them. He could feel the hot blood coursing through Jumba’s veins and the pounding pulse of it through his cock, and with a little squeeze he drew a moan out of him.

 

“Oof, those little hands of yours.” Jumba tightened his own grip on Pleakley, a small quiver running through his body. “You tease me.” He whispered something in Tantalog as Pleakley’s thumb teased at his head and came away dripping with the same sticky, violet precum from earlier.

 

The size of Jumba--package or otherwise--had always been a comfort. Holding onto his arm with his delicate hands and feeling the muscles flex between his fingers, Pleakley had always felt safe. Protected on a strange world.

 

Now when Jumba’s lips were everywhere, it made him moan. A glance passed between them, and he let go of their erections so that Jumba could sit up and, stroking himself to coat his cock with his own viscous lubricant, flash a wicked smile. While Pleakley melted back against the pillows, Jumba positioned himself between his legs. The tip of his cock had barely begun to press into him when Pleakley began to squirm, and Jumba glanced up.

 

“Too much?” He asked.

 

“No. Just go slow, okay?” The first of the ridges squeezed inside, and he gasped. “This different species thing is difficult. At least all your little monsters are about the same size.”

 

Chuckling, Jumba leaned over him again and teased another string of kisses out of him, slowly working himself in with short thrusts. He was trying to be gentle, Pleakley knew, but every motion and every twist of the hips seemed to press him into the bed. Even lubricated and teased by Jumba’s incredible tongue, he could feel his body working to accommodate the girth and was thankful he was stretchy by galactic standards.

 

_Oh, those little ridges,_ Pleakley bit his lip, feeling them grazing past his sensitive hole. _What are they even for--ooh!_

 

Ever perceptive, Jumba smiled. “You like? I wondered if you would.” He was making a point now of twisting his hips ever so slightly with every thrust, letting Pleakley feel them rubbing against him.

 

“What are they--” Pleakley yelped, “…for?” Big enough to notice, dull enough not to hurt even at Jumba’s size. They reminded him of the bumps on some of his toys, meticulously crafted by the native life to resemble their wildest fantasies which were more accurate than they thought.

 

Pleakley wasn’t sure if he bought that, but he wasn’t complaining when it felt as good as it did. He didn’t care if their sex broke the tiny bed.

 

The creaking of the bed was drowned out by their sounds. Sighs and the soft click of kisses along an arm, a neck, a shoulder--whatever they could reach. Hastily-whispered sweet nothings in an ear, in Tantalog or in English. An odd groan from Jumba when, finally, he buried himself up to the hilt and they felt each other’s bodies quivering with need.

 

Pleakley, for his part, couldn’t stop rocking his hips up against Jumba’s with every thrust. Even though his body ached with the effort of adjusting to him, it seemed it ached for Jumba. Every time he raised his hips, that fat cock would sink even deeper into him, filling him until he thought there couldn’t possibly be that much room in his body and then pulling back to leave him wanting. Delicious and torturous all at once, his composure was starting to slip.

 

His blood was pounding in his ears like the surf outside. Doing the only thing he could do, Pleakley slipped his arms around Jumba’s neck and tried to ride on the waves of sensation. Jumba would thrust into him with a grunt, and Pleakley would bounce up on the bed to take him in up to his balls--but he could only take so much.

 

The first one to lose his cool was Jumba, who huffed and panted against his neck. "Getting close... very close." His hands, previously on Pleakley's narrow hips, began to roam his body again trying to tease him closer to orgasm. Urged on by a moan, one wrapped around Pleakley's cock and stroked him in time with Jumba's thrusts. "But not as close as you."

 

"You're mean," Pleakley gasped, but Jumba was right. The way his hips were jerking out of control meant he couldn't have slowed down if he wanted to, and he could feel the telltale trembles in the pit of his stomach.

 

"Come on," Jumba urged, lips against his ear. He was goading Pleakley on to finish first, wanting to see him lose control. A well-timed husky moan, and he got his wish.

 

Sputtering, Pleakley tried to retort but couldn't. His hands clenched in the sheets beneath him, and the contact between their bodies was all he could think about as he cried out. The waves of bliss from Jumba above pounding him into the mattress never seemed to stop, and when he opened his eyes to see a thin sheen of green cum spattered across Jumba's chest he was still reeling.

 

Satisfied, Jumba lifted Pleakley's hips up off the mattress by his ankles, jerking as he gave a few short, final thrusts. Holding back as long as he had, it was seconds before he followed along, biting down gently on the soft spot between Pleakley’s neck and shoulder as he did.

 

Still quivering, Pleakley _felt_ Jumba cum as much as he heard it. Ropes of hot cum shot deep inside you by an alien hunk three times your size wasn’t something you forgot. He filed it away in his memory for later and sat up just enough to kiss his panting lover on the lips, smiling when the kiss was enthusiastically returned.

 

There was nothing to say, not at first. Jumba didn’t want to take his hands off Pleakley once they started wandering again, and Pleakley didn’t want him to stop.


End file.
